My mind is constantly changing. My ideas for the future somersaulting with every turn of the Earth around the Sun. New opportunities are popping up every day – every one leading somewhere extremely different and yet all extremely exciting.

I have so many options for my path – so many different ways to get where I’m going – and it’s interesting to realize “there’s no wrong answer”. Whatever I choose will teach me something, will take me somewhere, and move me forward in this life. It’s just a matter of choosing.

And amidst all these choices – new things are happening every day.

Tonight I was invigorated by meeting someone who shares a lot of my ideas about life, who shares my yearnings for adventure, and who has lived a fascinating life. His life has nothing necessarily similar to my life besides the simple fact: he has chosen in his past to adventure, to seek new experiences, and he values everything he’s learned from his plethora of experiences. He has gathered stories and he hopes to seek more, he wants to see this country, to adventure, and to be physically active in these adventures.

These similar thoughts made for a wonderful night of conversation, of back and forth story-telling, of intrigue, and of learning how much I actually have learned about myself.

Meeting someone with similar ideals is such a magnificent experience. You feel immediately you’ve met someone you were supposed to meet, and someone you hope to meet again – no matter the circumstances.

For me, I sat there realizing slowly how much I know about what I want in life. I can finally pinpoint the things that are most important to me in terms of living my life and building relationships.

I want someone who wants adventure, who seeks activity, who likes people. I want someone willing to live minimally, who doesn’t need money, who wants to see the world, and who can hold an intellectual conversation with almost anyone.


That is how I will live this life – with adventure at the core of everything I do. And constantly reminding myself – wherever I go there will be people with this idea, I just have to take the time to look for them.


The idea of moving away is the only thing moving me forward these past few days.

Mind you – nothing dramatic has happened recently in my life.

I’ve merely come to a point of standing still.

I’m not in any shows. I’m no longer dating someone who I never was insanely enamored with to begin with. I’m ending one of my classes tomorrow. Spring is here. This new awakening, rebirth of the Earth.

And I feel like I am still stuck, wading in the months of cold that wrapped my brain after the tumultuous end to last year.

I’m finding the healing process to be a much longer one than I remember. I’m to the point where I feel fully healed – most of the time – until suddenly something happens, something minuscule, and I find myself gasping a bit for air as I look at my feet. Suddenly I feel terribly alone, terribly incompetent, and terribly unsuccessful.

I lay down on my couch and do nothing. I sit still. And in that stillness my mind tears me apart. Before you know it I’m crying, drinking wine from the biggest wine glass I own (a recent purchase to make me feel more like the woman in Scandal when I drink alone at night).

I know I’m moving forward in time, but I feel stuck overall. And this small idea that I may be moving away – I may be getting the chance to start a whole new chapter – that idea is keeping me going. That’s all I want right now. More than anything I want a change – a BIG change. I want something to feel exciting and new again. I want to feel.

That’s the thing.

I had margaritas with some tacos on the side after work the other day. My friend and I spent our lunch date discussing how we yearn for excitement or even for the suffering that comes with losing the excitement, the passion, the love. Because at least then we’re feeling something. At least we feel like human beings – rather than zombies muttering through the day just to get to do it all over again tomorrow.

I’m sick of doing the same thing day in and day out. I’m sick of being in this place. I’m sick. No, I take that back – I’m not sick – I’m bored.

I’m at the low end of contentment – the part where yes, I could do this forever. I could live off what I do now. I could live – but I wouldn’t feel alive.

I am living. But I do not feel alive.

I want to feel alive again.

Tonight I stare at the blank page

a million thoughts flying through my head

without a single coherent sentence to share

Tybalt meows at the shadows underneath my hanging coats

as I eat peanut butter on not quite fresh anymore bread

my knees aching with today’s weight

and the strain of days previous

my tea steeps quietly – minding it’s own business

with a quote to lighten my soul tonight

“I am beautiful, I am bountiful, I am blissful”

and yes,

yes I am all of those things.

Alone in my apartment I am all of those things and more.

My future is calling.

Boston is coming.

I hope you’re there waiting,

whoever you are.

Tonight I made (what may very well be my first) a true adult choice. A purely unselfish adult choice.

I listened to what my head and heart have been telling me for a week or so, I looked someone in the eyes, and said “Go, go before I break your heart”

I’ve lived for so long with the mentality of living in the moment and solely living in the moment. I’ve been setting myself up for years for all the heartbreak I’ve endured.

Now I don’t regret a single moment. I don’t regret the choices I’ve made. I am so honored by every chance I’ve had to fall in love and every person I’ve met in the process. I love every fantasy world I’ve built with the men I’ve loved in the past.

But tonight, for the first time, I didn’t think about what I wanted. And I’m not saying I’m a completely selfish person, but I can be. We all can be. I have been selfish in love. I wanted to hold on this relationship merely so I could have another fun summer of stories to tell. I wanted to hold on so that I could feel loved.

But this man, I knew I would hurt him in the end. I know there will come a time when I move away – and he isn’t moving, he isn’t leaving. And we would build a fantasy world that would all shatter in a few months – and we would shatter with it. He would shatter with it.

And I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t handle that.

So I let him go.

I finally understand what they mean when they tell you – if you love someone, let them go.

I can’t say I loved this man. It’s far too soon after I’ve initially met him. But I came to really care and appreciate him – very fast – I came to respect him and I couldn’t let myself lead him on.

I’ll tell you – while I am very proud of this choice – it breaks my heart all the same. I will still spend time tonight crying in my bed, drinking the last sips of wine in my apartment, and wishing I could fall asleep. I will still spend a few days mourning the little piece of romantic entanglement that has been lost.

But there’s growth. There’s growth in who I am as a person and what I look for in a relationship.

I realize – I’m not messing around anymore. This isn’t just fun and games and sex – I want to fall in love. I want someone to spend my life with. Its probably years down the line when I find that – but that’s what I want. More than any summer romance – I want to be in love. I can’t wait until I get there.

But I know – I have to wait.

“I’m afraid” he seems to whisper across this technological net blanketing our world –

our two destination points connected with an invisible string through the night sky

his voice between my ear and my pillow

“I’m afraid”

and I suddenly understand the hesitation in the way he holds my hand,

wrapping his fingers around my palm, not threading them between mine,

I understand the way he walks away without looking back –

the way he looks ahead at the museum glass

rather than directly in my glancing eyes

afraid, afraid of this invisible string

going from a technological connection to a vibrant, pulsing tether between our eyes

“I understand”

the whisper comes from my pressed lips without a single thought

because each line in my lips, each pigment of leftover lipstick

remembers all the fear, the hesitation, the anxiety

before they pressed to the lips of men I swore I would never love,

didn’t have the time to love

but there’s never enough time

every kiss is a mere second – never long enough

every intimate intertwining is mere minutes – never slow enough

every romance is merely a number of pages in our life stories – never the whole book

and if you fear

“If you fear…..then you won’t enjoy this at all”

Relationship versus Dating.

It’s funny how as you age those things have very distinct separate meanings.

I remember being in high school and saying to my parents that I was “dating” and it felt like my dreams of a prince charming had finally come true.

I remember in college saying I was in a serious “relationship” and dating the same boy for almost a full year before he broke my heart. Shattered me to pieces.

Then after college I fell into my first truly serious “relationship”. He helped me up when I fell, he kept me in the state of Wisconsin when I originally had plans to leave, we signed a lease, we adopted a cat, we melted into one another and I forgot who I was until I started making deliberate mistakes to break us apart – until finally we fell apart in a blaze of tears and wine bottles.

Now I see so very clearly the difference. The serious nature of being in a relationship. A relationship is about partnership, its a serious commitment. One I can’t handle at the moment.

Do not dwell in the past,

Do not dream of the future,

Concentrate the mind on the present moment

Where the hell am I now?

So often I forget to look around, take in my surroundings, and take note of everything I have at the moment. My ambition and my passion take me constantly into the whirlwind of what comes next, where can I go, what can I do. I get lost in the hazy thoughts of the future, in the fears, in the worries, in the daydreams. I forget that where I am now holds as much weight, holds as much worth.

4:56 pm. Saturday. March 21st. I sit on my ex-boyfriend’s bed, the bed his family loaned me to sleep on for the remaining months in this apartment. The apartment I signed for with said ex-boyfriend. The apartment that is now entirely my home, my solace. I sit watching the last rays of this chilly spring day come through my bent blinds. Bent from the many times my cat caught himself within them trying to see out the window while also trying to keep his eyes on me.

I sit here in my favorite sports bra and leggings – funny because I’ve been too sick to work out lately, but I like having the facade that I’ve been an active person. Still wearing the Milwaukee Public Museum entrance wristband from yesterday’s excursion with my current boyfriend. My current boyfriend, who is more of a planned fling than a boyfriend. Perhaps he’s not the greatest fit for me and at times I find myself more frustrated than infatuated. But he’s fun, he’s kind, he’s generous, he’s honest. For now: that’s all I need. Serious relationships took a major toll on me in the last few years, they aren’t something I’m ready to partake in at the moment.

An open script lies on my dresser from the recent runnings of a monologue as I prepare for an upcoming audition. Perhaps the last audition I will ever do in this city. But again lets not think on that. Anytime I get the chance to run a monologue, to prep for an audition it sets a new fire within me, makes me feel once again like I’m moving forward. This monologue in particular is exciting to work on, but those reasons lie in the past – where we aren’t focusing at the moment.

I sit writing this as a manner of reflecting and also relaxing after a day at work. Today I was reminded how skilled I’ve become in this particular position. That even sick, with a hazy brain and congested sinuses, I can manage an 8 hour shift on my feet in front of people, creating an important part of their day: lattes.

Now this job. I’ve been hard on this job. I’ve found myself completely fed up with this job. Coworkers have come to remind me – I’m being too hard on this job. Now I admit – they’re correct. I’ve been too negative about this whole situation because there are good things in this job, good things in the people I work with. However, my negativity doesn’t stem from having a bad job, it stems from my boredom in complacency. It’s a part of who I am. I don’t like to be comfortable. I tell myself every day that I want that. I want stability. I want a consistent job. I want to be married. But the second I’m comfortable I feel like I’m not going anywhere. I freak out. And I insist I need to move forward. It’s not because what I have here isn’t good.

What I have here in this place, at this time, is perfect. Its a certain level of perfection. It’s a job, a house, a city I love, friends, family, adventures – but I know already this perfection can’t last. It won’t last because I can’t be content. I want the madly passionate affair, the terrifying excitement, the uncertain success. I want to experience as much of life as humanly possible. And I will do so.

5:06 pm. Saturday March 21st. I have taken 10 minutes to reflect upon the current moment. I have looked around. I have seen my cardigans in disarray, my empty water bottle, my fat cat lounging, my book shelves with toppled over books. I have noticed my own state of existence, the sickness floating in my sinuses, the urge of my bones to go rock climbing, the exhaustion from days fighting this illness. I have noted. I will remember. For a second things were perfect. Things were peaceful.

And now they continue forward.

As we walked around the museum he once reached out for my hand. Once. And quickly dropped it to quickly wander the museum artifacts. He never read a single plaque, but chose to take in the imagery of the displays. He focused on the big pictures as I dawdled along at his heels reading as quickly as possible. I would stop to read something particular interesting about Hindu gods or ancient tattooing processes and he wouldn’t notice I was missing until he was in the next room. When we would sit, he wouldn’t wrap me in his arms, and he’d stand up to continue on without looking back.

Look back. Offer me your hand. Kiss me when we’re alone in a tiny display room.

We wandered recreations of Old European Village streets. I looked around and thought: how romantic. And yet not even an old lamp post over a fountain got him to look at me with anything more than the same childish eyes he always gives me.

I ponder if there’s a fear of vulnerability underneath his many layers. He’s opened up about his complicated and messy past, he’s told me deep dark secrets, but now he merely seems like a cartoon. He’s a tad insane: he rambles about nonsense, he habitually makes certain sounds or gestures, he says “dude” more often than I’d like, and tells stories in a manner that makes me feel like he’s talking to a 6 year old. He repeats things asking, “do you know what I mean?” when one reference was all I needed to understand. He goes on bouts of singing and making musical noises for extended periods of time to describe a moment in his story. This is the way he communicates – through sounds and music. For me, its nothing something I understand, yet for him it’s something extremely moment to what he is trying to tell.

I realize my bitching about this makes me sound insensitive. This writing is merely for me to process the experiences I’ve been having, to get out my frustrations and formulate truly what is bothering me so I can better approach this relationship.

Relationship. Even that word doesn’t seem to fit this experience. Sure I like this guy. He makes me laugh. He’s fun, he’s lighthearted, he reminds me to take it easy, he pays for our dates and would very happily take care of me, he’s decent in bed. I care about him. For reasons I don’t quite understand. Yet I can firmly say I don’t see this relationship going very far. This isn’t something I see lasting forever.

So the question is: why am I still here?

But then I counter question: why does it always have to be so serious?

It’s funny because I like this guy even more when he’s not around, when we’re texting adorable emojis to one another or pictures from our day – those are the times I like most (not including our sexual endeavors)

But when we’re together…….there are little things here and there that irk me. Little things here and there that remind me this never could be forever. I want someone who will hold my hand as we walk around a museum. Who will read the information by each display and learn new things with me. Who will take me into a tiny display corner and makeout for just a second. Who will dance with me down the recreated streets of Old Europe. Who will be madly in love with me.

Yes, this relationship is new. Yes it is. And love takes time. But for the first time I can see this isn’t something that will become mad, passionate love. Sure, it’s fun. I’m going to enjoy the fun for as long as my intellectual mind can handle. Because I haven’t had some simple fun in a long time. But this simple fun isn’t what I want for a lifetime. It’s not enough.

“The story of life is quicker than the blink of an eye, the story of love is hello, goodbye”

– Jimi Hendrix

I find it amazing how in the matter of a few hours the world can tilt, your perspective can shift, your surroundings and hopes and dreams can be completely recreated. Suddenly your standing in a brand new place with that sense that something new has just begun.

I want to remember this day for a long time. This seemingly mundane day, I went to work, I came home exhausted, I bought groceries, I drank wine. But today I drank that wine as a celebration, not nearly a glass of wine to end my day with.

Today I got accepted into the Masters for Theatre Education at Emerson College. Yesterday I was accepted into the Masters for Theatre Education at NYU. In the matter of 48 hours (not even) my life has been flipped on its head. I’ve been reminded of my own potential, my own capabilities, and given opportunities unlike any I could’ve imagined coming my way.

Mere weeks ago my mind, my body was filled to the brim with fear, distress, anxiety, and pain. Pain over what I had lost, over what I couldn’t see coming, over uncertainty, over rejection. I felt helpless, useless, lost. I felt lost. I still feel lost, but I feel lost amidst a serious downpour.

I’ve met someone who makes me laugh, who treats me with the utmost kindness, and who seems to be ok with all my baggage. I’ve been accepted into two spectacular graduate programs and I’m still waiting to hear back about more. I have no idea what I want. I am absolutely terrified, because for a minute I felt like I had everything and now I have to choose what I really want above all. This is a hard thing for me to deal with. I don’t like making choices. I like having all the options.

But, I have every option open to me right now. I can go wherever I want. I have the abilities, I have the ambition, I have the passion, and clearly I have people to love me along the way. Whether this new boyfriend lasts past the summer – it doesn’t matter. He’ll last if he’s supposed to, he’ll last if he truly cares. Friends, family – I’ll have them forever. My career – it’ll carry me through life. And if I keep going at the pace I’m running I’ll see great things early on in life. I’ll make a name for myself. I’ll be successful and I’ll get the chance to change lives.

Huh. There it is. These choices are more than just my choices. They’re about so much more, there’s a much bigger picture being painted here.

‘Hold please’

“Holding” I mumble to the air as my red slippers reach towards the ceiling and the ends of my fingers trail towards the wood floors of my very first apartment. Red wine on the coffee table, my journal tucked between stacks of other books, boots strewn by the front door – I look around and see everything that I am.

Books upon books, covered with paintings, scattered amidst old journals filled with my darkest secrets and truest thoughts, shoes of every color creating a rainbow throughout my one bedroom apartment, pages of curriculum piled on top of readings and excerpts from scripts, my record play silently awaiting its next moment to consume me. Unlit candle hoping that I invite some handsome man to sit on my couch and listen to my heartbeat so they can flicker against the walls that have stood since the 20’s. Underneath the edge of the thrift store coffee shop, my cat sits judging my every move and loving me regardless.

I am all these things. Consumed, embraced by these objects that reflect clearly who I am, unfiltered. There are a million things in this tiny apartment and yet I’m not done searching, reaching, yearning to acquire more. But more importantly I’m yearning for experiences, moments, something to change.

On hold. I’ve been placed on hold. Ever since my heart shattered on the bathroom floor and my tears filled the bathtub until every memory of him washed down the drain, until I could finally look in the old mirror on the wall and see myself – no makeup, no facade, covered in tears and scars, rosy cheeks, a quivering lip – ever since then.

I’ve been rebuilding. Bit by bit gathering my things, gathering the dirt, pressing forward and debating what exactly I want to sculpt as time ticks on.

And now I lounge waiting to see what sculpture I’ve been creating…..

holding. holding. holding on.

please, please answer soon.

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